


Second Place

by CaptainTwinklers



Category: Gattaca (1997)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTwinklers/pseuds/CaptainTwinklers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugene recalls his first time with Vincent, and his experience being constantly second to Jerome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Place

**Author's Note:**

> This story is more angst than smut, so sorry to disappoint if you wanted some super hot action!
> 
> In case you didn't see the tags, trigger warnings for alcohol use, swearing, disability, (canon) implied suicide, and angst, if thats something you need a TW for.

They say that love is patient, but I don’t think so. If love is patient, then I could wait a year for him to return. But no, like the spoiled little bitch I am, I’m sitting here on my fucking wheelchair with my stupidly second place Olympic medal, starring the end right in its face, and goddamnit, I can’t stop thinking about him. He’ll be fine. He has Irene and Jerome… Who ever heard of a genetically elite cripple? God, I thought that they were supposed to weed out depression when they chose my body and my talents. 

You see, ever since the beginning of our relationship, it had never been just Vincent and I. If it was, maybe we could’ve been happy, but who am I fooling? Not all the circumstances in the world could change how he sees me. Besides, without that stupid fucking third wheel Jerome, we never would have met. Jerome, Jerome, Jerome. Where to start with him? Jerome was the epitome of an elite. Jerome could walk and he never came in second place because he had not only drive and charisma, but he tested so well, it seemed impossible. Vincent was different. He was soft, understanding, disabled genetically, and oh, so very darling. I thought him such a dork when I first saw him, sandy brown hair in a mess and bottle glasses all askew. I didn’t start really seeing him, however, until he proved his loyalty and strength. He’d seen me, after all. If he was willing to put his legs in danger, so we had a chance of becoming the fucking wheelchair twin power force or something gay like that, I knew that he was serious, because I saw his drive. Even more on, when we finally got him all cleaned up, dressed in his Jerome costume, he didn’t look so bad. Perhaps if I had the confidence and legs I had a few years ago, I would have pursued him, but again, I could make up all the hypotheticals in the world and it still wouldn’t turn out the way it had turned out here. I just curse the lucky bastard, Jerome, whose life worked out. 

After he had cleaned up and was routinely putting on his Jerome mask, with his body and my genes, I wasn’t the only one to take notice of him. There was a blonde. She was lovely, very straight and simple, yet very intelligent. Her lips look like they would feel like pillows if you touched them, and her skin would feel like silk. Each of her silky blonde hairs were in place as if she had put each one to its assigned spot with tweezers, or maybe they were so mesmerized by her, they obeyed her commands and got to their assigned places themselves. Yes, if I was in Vincent’s shoes, I’m not sure I would have chosen me either, but to be fair, I am very charming as well. My legs are lacking a bit in muscle, but I don’t think Vincent ever blamed me for that.

The first time I ever started seeing Vincent as more of a love interest, he was wearing his Jerome costume for one of the first times. He had just been accepted to work in Gattaca. 

“Of course you did.” I said, a corner of my mouth turning up a bit as I looked up at Vincent, who was ecstatic about being one step closer to his dream of the stars. 

His smile soon fell after he looked into my glassy eyes. “You’ve been drinking again.” He said with a sigh. 

“Alright, don’t get your pretty little panties in a twist now, my piss and blood are clean.” I said, rolling my eyes at his reaction. “Besides, it was only two glasses.” I said dismissively. 

“Eugene.” He said firmly, “You know quite well how hard you are to deal with when you’re drunk. You’re useless when you do that.”

I laughed, a laugh clouded with hurt. “I’m useless anyways.” I said, gripping the wheels of my failure and wheeling myself back over to the table that my drink was resting on, picking up the glass of wine and raising it to my lip, allowing the red liquid to flow past my lips and poison my body, rending the only part of my body that was good, my tests, useless. Subconsciously, I felt bad for making my drug tests useless, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about a lot of things. Not even Vincent at this point, and I certainly didn’t care for Jerome. It was horrible to have something waved in front of my face that I could’ve had with no work, but I just had to be a genetically elite arsehole who had everything handed to him, and struggled to even reach out and take the handouts. 

Vincent sighed again and shook his head. “You need to go to bed. Try to sleep off all that alcohol so you can actually do your job.” 

I groaned. “Pissing into a bag is not a job. I don’t have a job. I wheel up and give you my stupid ladder so you can borrow it and pay me. That’s hardly a job.”

Vincent didn’t say anything, just shook his head. Whether he was disagreeing with me or whether he was pitying me and my patheticness, I couldn’t tell. He reached down, putting one hand under my knees and one arm just below my shoulder blades. He hoisted me out of the wheelchair and clutched my halfway limp body to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, something I’d never done before. Vincent didn’t seem to mind. I took a deep breath, taking in his smell. He smelled like me, and my favorite cologne. It wasn’t really that necessary, but I insisted. If he was going to be Jerome, I wasn’t going to half-ass it. I wanted him too look like Jerome, act like Jerome, hell, I even wanted him to taste like Jerome, so in case he’d ever kiss a girl, she wouldn’t be kissing Vincent. I don’t know why I thought that, I was just protective of Vincent. I didn’t want to him to fall off that borrowed ladder of his and hurt himself. 

When we finally reached the room, he set me down on the bed. Well, more like fell on top of me onto the bed. I gazed up at him with my light blue-green eyes. They hadn’t gotten my eye color quite right, but they were very pretty contacts so it didn’t matter anyways. He looked back into my glassy eyes, making a bit of a face. 

“You smell like alcohol.” He commented, his low voice soft. I hated it when people did that, when they were so sexy in something they did it drove me mad and I couldn’t do anything about it. The way they talked, walked, their hands, legs… it didn’t matter, if they did it well, it drove me mad. My Jerome did everything like that. I closed my eyes and let out a laugh. God, it was too much, I couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He only had a few seconds to look at me like I was insane before his concerned look was cut by my lips. I don’t know what I was thinking, but the best moments in life came from not thinking. Thinking about something only lead to realizing how bad and painful the world was and how impossible something really was. I kissed him well, my soft lips gently moving against his rigid mouth, prodding for any sort of response. I don’t know what his face looked like because my eyes were closed but his lips said shocked. After a while, I pulled back. I didn’t want to kiss someone who wasn’t into it. I looked up into his brown eyes that were covered in blue. 

“Why did you do that?” He asked softly. He didn’t seem angry, just quiet and trying to process what had just happened.

“I couldn’t help it.” I said lamely. I wish I had said something better, but evidently it wasn’t too bad because the second later when I pressed my lips to his again, he didn’t fight back. In fact, he started to kiss back. He was a good kisser, especially when tongue started to get involved. He was firm, but not aggressive. I felt like I deserved a rough partner that didn’t care about me. It would’ve been easier that way, but the way he kissed me made me feel desirable, and I was hooked. 

My hands reached up and started to play with his thick dark hair. It was soft and clean due to the twice daily showering, and like many other things about him, it was addicting. I gently pulled it back, asking him to pull away. He quickly followed the request. 

“Go on. I want more.” I whispered. 

He looked at me, confused. “But you can’t…” His voice trailed off. 

“I don’t care if I can feel it or not.” I said after a second of pause, before one of the corners of my mouth curled up a bit. “I want to give you pleasure.” I whispered. I know that it was cheesy, but I didn’t care. I said cheesy things from time to time. If Vincent didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have kissed me back.

He bit his lip, his perfect teeth digging into his soft lips in that hot little way of his. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you..” His voice trailed off again.

“I’m not a disabled baby. I know what consent is, and I’m giving it to you.” I growled. “Are you too stupid to take it?” I asked, annoyed that he was being such a pussy about this. 

He frowned. I could tell he felt challenged. A little healthy sexual challenging never hurt anyone. Well, especially not me because I couldn’t feel it. He reached down and tugged off my pants and underwear. It was a bit embarrassing to just lay there with a flaccid cock, but I couldn’t help it. He then helped me out of my shirt, and I laid there on the sheets, awkwardly naked. 

“Now you.” I said, anxious not to be the only nude one. He started with his top, peeling that off to reveal his body which seemed on the outside so flawless, as if there wasn’t a battle to survive on the inside. I ran my fingers down his smooth chest. 

“If you’re going to fuck me, fuck me like this. I want to see your body.” I whispered. 

He was quiet for a second, but nodded. “Okay,” he said softly, pulling his pants down. He was wearing white cotton underwear, which he promptly took off as well. He had a semi already. God, how I wished I could get an erection. It was the little things you miss. Well of course, not so little in my case, but I don’t want to brag too much. His hands stroked down my body, grabbing my hand and leading it to his hip. I grinned and propped myself up so I could get a better view of what I was doing, and I wrapped my hand around his dick at the base. I started agonizingly slowly jerking him off. 

“Its been so long since I’ve touched a cock.” I whispered, gripping a bit harder and started to go a little faster. He quickly got an erection after that. I smiled up at him. 

“Showtime, right?” I whispered, laying back down and looking up at him. He nodded a bit hesitantly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Vincent whispered nervously as he grabbed my thighs, gently pulling my lower half up onto his lap, his cock close to my ass now. 

I nodded. “If I didn't want it, I wouldn't ask. Now stop being such a tit and go for it.” I said with a little smile of reassurance. 

I watched as he spit in his hand, lathered it up, and pushed it into me. I felt nothing. Lust, but no pleasure. He let out a little strangled moan and started rocking back and forth gently. It probably wasn't enough lube, but I didn’t care. It wasn't like I was gonna feel the consequences. He bit his lip again as he grunted and rocked into me. I watched his chest and face with lidded eyes. God, he was so sexy. After a while it started to become faster, and I could feel my body rocking with the thrusts, my hair becoming even more messy. Good. I wanted sex hair. His strong hands reached up and started grabbing at my chest and nipples as he thrust into me. He was panting and sweating now and I could even feel his pulse even through his hands when they stayed on one part of my chest for just long enough. 

Vincents moans started reaching a climax and his eyes rolled back just slightly in pleasure as he came, pulling out at the last second so there wouldn't be much of his DNA in me. Or at least I assumed thats why he did it, but I suppose I really don't know why he came on the sheets. He immediately collapsed onto the bed next to me, looking up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling. He looked over at me after a while. “I’m sorry I can’t do much for you.” He said in a voice that was stingingly genuine. 

“I know.” I said, looking away and closing my eyes. I didn't want to talk to him anymore. The sex was nice, but the torture of never truly releasing my passion was devastating, to say the least. 

I know this now. I love Vincent but I can never truly be happy with him and he can never be happy with me. Not with Jerome in our way, not with my legs in our way, not with the girl in our way. Jerome will always be first place, and I have come to terms with that. Thats why I’m sure this is the way it needs to be. I have samples for years and years from now if he’s careful. I can't stand losing to Jerome anymore. I'm sorry I'm letting you down Vincent. I’m sorry I can't handle being second. I'm sorry that when you come back, I won't be here.


End file.
